


Bound by Blood

by ThymeSprite



Series: Trio Challenge [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angry Sex, Blood, Blood Pacts, Demons, F/M, Family Issues, Friendship, Redemption, Wall Sex, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThymeSprite/pseuds/ThymeSprite
Summary: Noah's family has a dark secret his friend Sharon is about to exploit, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.But neither of them knows that there is even more at stake than they thought.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story started as a little challenge among friends and was inspired by the following prompts.
> 
> Location: A cottage  
> Sentence: “If you do this, you will be dead to me.”  
> Bonus: Boat

“No.”, was all he said, his voice crackling slightly over the phone, but the determination in it clear nonetheless, “I will not help you with this.”

“Noah, c’mon!”, she growled, clutching her mobile phone tightly in her hand, “You can’t leave me hanging now.”

Her only answer was a pained sigh and she knew exactly how he looked in that very moment, his free hand probably in his long brown hair and his dark eyes closed in both exasperation and hurt, but she paid it no mind. Instead she said challengingly: “You won’t help me? Fine, I’ll do it on my own.”

Silence followed, she almost believed he had simply hung up on her, but then she heard Noah again.

“Sharon.”, Noah said, his voice flat, almost lifeless, “If you do this, you will be dead to me.”

“Noah, I have to, I…”, she began, but then realised that he had in fact hung up on her.

“Bastard.”, Sharon muttered and threw the phone onto the couch, glaring at it while thinking of Noah. Uptight bastard. Uptight bastard with a stick up his arse.

Stifling the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, Sharon snatched up her phone and got dressed. There was no time to lose after all, as there was a full moon tonight.

When she left her apartment, she thought about sending Noah a text message saying that she was sorry, but then she scoffed and dismissed the idea. She had nothing to be sorry for, nothing.

During the short drive to the dock, Sharon went over her mental notes again, checking them probably for the hundredth time, but she had to be sure, otherwise this whole endeavour would be for naught.

But she had everything, the old letter, the lock of Noah’s hair, stolen from him as he had been taking a nap on her couch, her mother’s blood…

Now the only thing missing was the full moon.

Checking her watch nervously, Sharon realised that only an hour of daylight remained, but it was enough, it simply had to be enough. Still she glanced nervously at her watch as she parked the car and quickly walked over to her father’s boat. Forty minutes of daylight remaining as the old, rusty boat made its way through the dark murky waters of the lake, pushed towards the lost little island in the middle of the lake, the Isle of Archer, all but abandoned nowadays except for the occasional a bit too adventurous youngster trying to prove himself by spending a night there. No one ever managed the task, but Sharon knew she had to at least stay there long enough to get the answers she needed, just a few minutes.

Her arms were burning and her breath already ragged as the sun dimly vanished behind the thick, black forest surrounding the lake, engulfing her in darkness. And she was still so far away from the island.

She had to hurry, or she would miss the window, would miss the crucial time for the ritual and have to wait for another month. Her mother did not have that kind of time. Not anymore.

Tears threatened to spill, but Sharon choked them down and instead put all the energy into rowing the boat across the lake. It was not long before the keel hit the gravelly shore of the Isle. As she stepped out of the boat, her hands were shaking and admittedly, it was not only from exhaustion. She was afraid. She had sworn herself to not fear this moment, to be brave, for Mom, but she could not do it.

No matter, she had to pull through despite her fear then. Nothing else mattered.

Checking once again whether she had everything, Sharon made her way over the island, flashlight in hand. A motion at the corner of her eye made her jump before she realised that it had only been a bush and the flashlight casting weird shadows. Pathetic.

With new resolve, Sharon briskly walked onwards and soon the old cottage was in sight. It was in an abysmally bad state, all windows shattered, the door unhinged and the roof rotted, caved in. No one had been here for an entire century, she was sure of it, and had it been up to her, she would not be here either, but she pushed the thought and the lump of ice in her stomach aside and instead proceeded into the abandoned cottage, ducking under cobwebs and trying her best not to stumble over the omnipresent rubble.

She stubbed her toe, but the pain was forgotten within an instant as she found it. The altar.

Shaking her head, Sharon silently cursed Noah once again. Bastard, he had to have known about this. The whole town knew about the Archers’ connection to dark powers, but they only ever talked about it in hushed voices and never with one of the old clan present. She had once dared ask Noah about it and that rat bastard had denied everything. But he had tried to keep her away from the island nonetheless, even successfully up until now. Now though, something was more important than him, more than her. Or anything, really.

With a sigh of determination, Sharon walked up to the altar, almost mesmerised by the way the moonlight was caught in the silvery surface, making it shine with an eerie glow that somehow was too strong for that wee ray of moonlight, but she ignored it. More pressing matters.

With shaking hands, she produced the items she had painstakingly collected over the last few weeks, ever since she had heard that the altar could actually be more than just the village legend.

First the old letter she had found in the mansion of Noah’s family, now abandoned, but still filled with the riches of the Archer clan. Alright, so she had stolen it, but who cared? It was for a good purpose.

The letter told her what to place where and so she followed the instructions to the letter.

“Hair of the heir, bound by blood.”, Sharon mumbled and placed the lock of Noah’s hair in the lacuna right in the middle of the altar.

“Blood of the ailing, thereby bound by blood.”, she continued, her voice breaking as she emptied the vial of her mother’s blood into the lacuna as well, wetting Noah’s hair with it. It looked like normal blood, but Sharon knew that it was riddled with cancerous cells, slowly killing her mother, taking away the most important person in her life. And for what reason? Fucking bad luck.

But not on her watch. She would get answers, a bleeding wonder if she had to.

“Bound by blood, freed by fire.”, Sharon read in the letter and lighted the match which she then gingerly guided to the bloodied hair. It exploded in flame making her shriek in shock, then the flame calmed, but it burned in brightest blue, painting the empty cottage in a pale blue and casting unfamiliar shadows while engulfing both the lock of hair and her mother’s blood, slowly consuming both.

Sharon was mesmerised; she kept staring until she realised that once the blood had been burnt, her chance would be gone. So she composed herself and read the chant in the letter aloud: “Freed by fire to roam in your realm, seeking the answer. Seeking freedom of this ailment. I beseech thee, grant this freedom.”

Only the crackling of the flame broke the following silence, then the lock of hair caught fire and burnt in blood-red before, in a flash of light, it went up in ashes.

Darkness descended with the fire now gone and only the moonlight remained.

“No…”, Sharon mumbled, “No. It has to wo…”

Her words were cut off when she gasped in agony, her wrists burning hot like the blue flame that had consumed her mother’s blood. Sharon’s breath was taken away by the mind-numbing pain and even though she tried to scream, nothing could be heard.

Only a whisper in her head, ice-cold in its malignity: “Your offer is…acceptable.”

The pain on her wrists doubled, something burning into her flesh, scorching her very soul, blackening it. She had no idea how she knew that. But she did.

“Begone!”, a voice boomed through the dark night, soothing Sharon’s soul, soothing her burning wrists like balm, “I command you, be gone!”

The pain on her wrists vanished like a grip that had suddenly been shaken and it only left a dull ache behind as she found herself kneeling before the altar, not knowing how she had ended up on the dusty floor.

Panting and barely able to move, Sharon nevertheless turned around, sitting on the cold, hard floor of the cottage and as she looked up, she saw the familiar, most welcome sight of Noah. Two metres of comfort, of friendship, even though he looked positively feral with his broad shoulders, his long hair in tangles and his right palm bleeding from a cut he had apparently inflicted on himself with the knife in his left hand.

“Noah…”, she whispered, tears of relief now running down her cheeks, “Noah, I’m so gla…”

“Shut up.”, he said, his voice almost as cold as the one she had heard in her head before and Sharon winced as if slapped.

“Noah…”, she began, but he cut her off, “I told you that if you did this, you would be dead to me. But you did it anyway.”

“I had to!”, Sharon argued, hands balled to fists, “My mother…”

“Is dying.”, Noah harshly said, “Everyone dies eventually. Get over it.”

“How can you…?”, Sharon said, jumping to her feet, but finding it hard to stay upright as nausea hit her and the ache in her wrists pulsated.

“How can I say that?”, Noah guessed her question and shook his head, “How could you do this? Are you even remotely aware of what you could have done?”

“I could have saved my mother!”, Sharon cried and Noah merely shook his head before he calmly, flatly said, “Some things are worse than death.”

Sharon glared daggers at him and then hurled herself at her oldest friend, hitting his chest with her fists as she hissed: “You’ve seen her in that hospital bed, barely a shadow of herself. I could have saved her from that.”

“No.”, Noah said and gently stopped her fists, “No. You could have only delayed the inevitable. And doomed both your soul and mine in the process.”

“I wouldn’t ha…Ow!”, Sharon hissed as Noah touched her wrist and then roughly pulled at her arm so she saw her own wrist in the pale moonlight. There was a terrible scar on it, bulging and red, despicable and ugly.

“The demon is bound to my family. This is the demon’s way of marking his servants. This is the pact you have willingly entered.”, Noah told her, once again pressing his thumb against the scar and making her groan in pain, “Pray that I have come here just in time to save you. You’ll know when you die and do not serve a demon.”

With that he dropped her wrist as if he had scorched himself on her skin, then he turned and walked away.

“Noah.”, Sharon said and he stopped, but merely turned his head a bit, yet he did not face her as he spoke, “This is the last time you have seen me. You will never talk to me again, never call me again, never see me again. You are dead to me.”

“Noah…”, she murmured in disbelief, shaking her head. But he walked away.

“Noah!”, Sharon called after him, but she only saw his tall silhouette merge into the darkness of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Noah all but ran from the old cottage his family had abandoned almost a century ago, his head filled with questions and most of all rage. How could she do that to him? Sharon was his oldest friend, the only friend he really had… but now she was dead to him, had to be.

“Damn it, Sharon.”, he harshly muttered as he reached the shore and he took a deep breath of the clean air, smelled the lake and the forest. He almost laughed bitterly. The world did not care a fig for what had happened tonight, in the grand scheme of things, both his soul and Sharon’s were expendable. But he did not want to condemn her to an afterlife in the service of a demon. It was too late for him, but he loved her too much to…

“Damn it, Sharon.”, he once again cursed under his breath, then quickly stepped into his motorboat. He knew exactly what he had to do and he also knew that he had to be fast. That did not mean he liked it. In fact, he felt tears of despair sting in his eyes, but he stubbornly told himself it was just the wind as he raced to the dock. His path was set and Sharon had been to one to set him upon it.

He tied the boat in the private boathouse that had belonged to his family for generations, then locked said house and ran to his car. He had to be quick and take action before Sharon would be able to overcome her shock and follow him. Her rowing boat would make sure that he had a bit of a head start, but he had no doubt that Sharon would rush to her mother’s side as soon as she had gathered her wits about her again. So he had to be faster.

He ignored every speed limit there was in the little backwater town the Archers had made their own, seemingly through luck and clever business deals, which had in fact all been a masquerade for their pacts with the demon. At a red light, he unconsciously rubbed over the scar on his chest, then clenched his fist and stepped on it even before the traffic light had turned green.

If Sharon had any brains left, she would soon put two and two together and realise that his scar meant that he was bound to the demon, just as she had bound herself tonight. After all, she had seen him without a shirt on countless times, had even asked about the scar and he had given her the same stupid excuse he always gave, falling on a fence as a child. As if he could have fallen on the ten feet fence around the mansion.

He brought his jeep to a screeching halt in front of his apartment building and simply double parked. The deputies knew better than to give him a ticket, courtesy of his father’s charming personality. May he rot in hell.

He dashed up the stairs to the loft and punched in the security code with one hand, while the other unlocked the door. The movements were so familiar, he managed them even with his hands shaking despite his best efforts to ignore what he was about to do. He had to.

He kicked the door shut and slid aside a panel set into the backwall of his kitchen cabinet. Behind the spices, there were different alchemical ingredients most people would frown upon, and next to them were the poisons. He opened the small cool box and pulled out two of the vials, gently shaking them and quickly calculated the dose he would need, then he put one vial back.

Martha had never been a plump woman and by now, the cancer in her had reduced her to nothing but skin and bones with a few wisps of brittle hair.

Noah closed his eyes with a groan, but then efficiently locked the cabinet back up and left the flat, securing every lock meticulously behind him.

A quick glance at his watch told him that almost forty minutes had passed already, he had to be quick. The drive to the hospital was not long, but with every mile, Noah’s heart sank. This was it, he had to do it.

He did not do it consciously, but he kept to the speed limit, just to stall for time, yet the badly illuminated parking lot of the general hospital came into view far, far too soon.

Biting his lip he admitted that even never would have been too soon.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, but only nauseating himself by it, Noah exited the car and made his way to the hospital. He had long since realised that if he just strode along as if he had every right to be here, no one bothered him. If someone did, the name Archer usually took care of that, but he had no intention of giving his name tonight, at least not if he could help it.

Clutching the vial in his hand, even though he knew that he should best keep it cold, he let his gaze wander and quickly spotted what he needed, an unattended medical cart. Some gloves, a syringe and needle were soon found and that was all he needed. He hid the items in the pocket of his jacket and took the stairs to the floor with the patients’ rooms.

The station was bustling with activity, so no one noticed him.

“Excuse me, mister!”

Or so he had thought.

Noah gritted his teeth, but then smoothed his expression over by sheer force of will and turned around. The nurse who had called after him was a young girl, maybe not even a nurse, but an orderly or even a volunteer, so he put his most charming smile on his lips and said: “Good evening, ma’am.”

She blushed at that and had to clear her throat before she spoke up again: “Visiting hours are over. You should come back tomorrow.”

Damn. His smile faltered, he did not have to act that, but he used it to his advantage, hoping that his charms still worked.

“I know.”, he admitted contritely, “But I just heard how poorly my friend’s mother is faring and… well, I haven’t seen her in years and… I don’t know how long she has.”

As he had expected, the girl’s expression softened and sympathy shone in her big, baby blue eyes as she dutifully checked her clipboard and asked: “What’s the Mom’s name?”

“Martha Roberts.”, he said and damn it, he did not have to act the way his voice choked up as he spoke her name.

“Oh, it’s good to see Martha gets another visitor!”, the girl piped up and Noah felt his heart plummet. He should have known. Not only Sharon loved her mother, he did too, and seemingly everyone she met wherever she went.

“She’s right over there, second door on the left.”, the girl told him with a smile, “But please, make it quick. She has just fallen asleep.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”, Noah promised, feeling his gut clench painfully at that, but he played his part and glanced at the name tag before he said, “Thank you, Grace.”

With that he turned around, quietly snorting as it had been too easy to talk this trusting girl into admitting him to Martha. He really hoped never to be at the mercy of a hospital, even though he felt that she was a good girl, but too damn trusting.

He did his best not to rush into the room to get this ugly business over with, but Grace softly called after him: “If she should wake, please tell her that her last bloodwork is back. It’s much better!”

“I…will.”, Noah nodded, but as soon as he had turned his back on the cheerful girl, he closed his eyes and groaned. He was too late. For all his haste, the demon had already reached her and apparently improved her condition. There was nowhere to hide, all he could do was go into Martha’s room and maybe steal away a few seconds to think his actions over, but no more.

He avoided looking at her, clutching the vial in his hand again and tried to think. She was better, true, maybe she would even live, Sharon would be happy. But her improvement also meant that Sharon had successfully sold her soul to the demon.

He had hoped to prevent the deal from ever coming to fruition, but the demon had already held up his end of the bargain, now Sharon had to follow through.

However, Noah knew the demon. He would approach Martha as soon as she was awake and try to guilt her into selling her soul because he had helped her. Or, if that failed, offer to spare Sharon’s soul in exchange for hers, a deal Martha was sure to make because she loved her daughter maybe more than she deserved.

So the demon would get two souls for the price of one, and Noah’s would even be thrown in as an added bonus.

No, he had to spare Martha at least that. He had to.

If she died now, she would enter the realm of death unblemished, something he could no longer hope to achieve. His mind was set.

With a harsh breath and an accompanying nod, Noah turned around and walked over to the bed, for the first time looking at Martha that night. And he felt his heart clench painfully. By his estimation, she weighed barely more than 100 pounds, maybe 110. That one vial he had for her was far too much.

He only hoped she would stay asleep. With shaking hands, yet still efficient, Noah connected the needle to the syringe and filled it with the solution of succinylcholine chloride he had brought with him, then injected it into the drip going into her thin arm.

He quickly disassembled the syringe again and put it into the gloves, then away into his pocket to get rid of later, outside the hospital. Where it would not be connected to this incident.

He knew that he should hightail out of there, but he could not leave her. She had been his mother in everything but blood, he could not leave her now.

“Noah…?”, her weak voice rasped and he gasped in shock. No, she should not have woken up!

“Hi, Martha.”, he forced himself to say and gently took her hand. It almost vanished in his so much bigger grasp.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart, it’s the middle of the night.”, Martha wondered, always the voice of reason and loving care, so he smiled through unbidden tears, “I had to come see you, Mama.”

“Oh, you’re lovely, boy, but…”, she answered, but the rest of her words were garbled as her jaw went slack. The poison had taken effect.

She groaned something that roughly resembled his name and Noah took her hand in both of his, almost choking on his tears as he said: “I’m so sorry, Mama. I’m doing my best to protect you, to protect Sharon. As I promised. I’m trying.”

But he knew he had failed them both tonight. He saw it in the fear in her eyes as her body slowly shut down, the miserable remains of her muscles failing to do what she willed them to and needed them to as slowly her breathing stopped.

Noah took the time to close her eyes, so much like Sharon’s, then he bolted.

He took care to quietly shut the door, but a second later the alarm went off, indicating that the machines connected to Martha’s dead body alerted medical personnel to her rapidly worsened condition. Noah ran for the stairs and took almost half a flight at once, ignoring the chaos and confusion in the patient wing.

Until the doctors had figured out what was wrong, if they did at all, Martha was long dead. They would not even have the time to send for an antidote.

When he burst out into the cold night air it hit him with a terrible force that he had just killed the woman he had thought of as his mother for all his life.

A sob was wrenched from him and he ran to his car, dropped the keys and needed three attempts to actually start the engine and steer clear of the parking lot.

In the solitude of the highway, he allowed his tears to fall, but just for a second before he roughly wiped them away muttering: “Damn it, Sharon.”

He knew perfectly well that she had not forced his hand, but he nevertheless had to take action, to curb the demon’s foothold in this world. He had seen no other option, but he knew that there was now another terrible, irreversible stain on his soul. He had murdered Martha.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep. Rest. Anything.

That was all Sharon could think of. Rowing back to the docks had taken all her remaining strength and the scars burned with searing pain now after all the effort. She felt herself staggering as she unlocked the door to her flat, barely managing to actually find the keyhole, but then she was inside and just so thought of locking up behind her before she collapsed on the couch and was out before her head had even hit the cushion.

She slept, at first dreamlessly, but the vast nothingness of her sleep was slowly, yet surely invaded by something she did not understand, she just felt its presence, cold and menacing just at the edge of her consciousness. Until…it… rushed at her and she woke with a gasp of terror.

Sitting on her couch in the blackness of the deepest night, Sharon had no idea what had woken her, but her heart was racing, her hands shaking miserably. Her gaze fell on the bulging scars on her wrists and… she thought she saw a dim glow vanish from her abused flesh. But that could not be.

It… should not be.

Scared and shaken to her very core, she tried to get up. She stopped her attempt as she realised that her legs would not support her. She pressed her fist to her heart, trying to calm its galloping beating, but to no avail. Her harsh breaths sounded too loud in the silence of her living room.

Yet she jumped when the silence was suddenly interrupted by a strange noise she only belatedly recognised as her ringtone.

Without thought, she scrambled for the phone and answered the unexpected call: ”Yeah?”

“Miss Roberts?”, a male voice asked and she had to shake her head to clear it before she replied, “Yes, Sharon Roberts. Who is this?”

“My name is Steven Haynes.”, she learned, a name she had never heard before, “I am with the hospital you admitted your mother to.”

“What happened?”, Sharon shrieked in fear because a call at this time of night… could only ever mean one thing. One thing only.

“I am very sorry to inform you that your mother has died. We did…”

He continued on for a while, but Sharon did not hear him anymore. Her hand limply hung from her side, the phone still clutched in it, but not with her conscious effort.

Dead. Her Mom… was gone.

“Thank you for telling me.”, Sharon whispered into her phone, then hung up and simply stared unblinkingly into the darkness.

Gone. Dead. Dead and gone.

She could not believe it. Did not want to believe it. All she could do was stare into the dark room, uncomprehending, unfeeling, simply stunned with shock.

She had a vague recollection that time passed, but she jumped nonetheless when her first conscious moment after that phone call showed her the room in bright morning sunlight. She had sat there all night, not one waking moment between the call and her first blinking glimpse of the morning.

The first morning without her mother. She had known that this day would come, eventually, but she had not been prepared for it. Not in the slightest.

Her eyes were burning and with a horrified sob, her tears finally made their way down her cheeks, rapidly cooling in the chilly air of her flat. She was dead.

Sharon had no idea how long she had sat there on her couch, frozen with grief and fear. How should she live without her Mom? She would have to find out, she thought bitterly as she sobered up and furiously wiped away her tears. She would have to live on somehow.

The first step was to get up and make coffee, as black as the night she had spent unblinking on her sofa. The familiar movements of making coffee calmed her somewhat, enough for her mind to ask questions she had been too stunned for last night. Why now? Why had her mother died now? The demon had promised to heal her… he could not have ignored his end of the bargain.

Had he been too late?

Had her mother already been dead when Sharon had risked her very soul?

The thought sickened her and she barely found the time to rush to the sink before she threw up bitter bile. Her soul was done for. And she had not even been able to save her mother.

She retched again, her stomach convulsing painfully as she realised that it had been for naught.

Her coffee was forgotten as she sat down to try and think. Noah… she refused to think about him, but he had mentioned that maybe he had come in time to save her. Or so he had said. Maybe his intervention had cost the demon her soul and so he had taken revenge by killing her mother?

Shaking her head and slowly standing up, remembering the coffee, Sharon thought that it was hopeless to try and guess the truth. She had no way of knowing. But, she thought as she poured herself coffee for breakfast, she knew someone who could find out.

She winced at that, because she had never intended to go back to him, but she had to find out whether or not she was doomed. She had not been able to save her mother, but maybe she could save herself.

She quickly downed her mug of coffee as she grabbed her phone and typed an email with trembling fingers. She would not have to wait for long. So Sharon only took the time to roughly clean her face of the tearstains of last night, then she poured some more coffee into her mug, ignoring the heartburn it gave her, then she checked her emails. There was some spam, but most importantly, his answer.

Her heart raced as she tapped to open the message and read only one line: “One hour – bring the usual pay.”

Sharon gulped, but she knew better than to respond or argue. Instead she packed the stack of bills into her purse, changed her clothes and left the flat. She would not need an hour to reach her destination, but she needed to think and for that, she needed to drive, so she did.

Why steering her car around corners and through traffic had always calmed her, Sharon had no idea, but she was grateful for it and not about to question it, as it allowed her to get her thoughts, questions and fear in order. She knew what she needed to ask of Ruben and she also had an idea how to ask. That did not mean she wanted to, though.

She sighed heavily to herself, hoping against better knowledge that she could avoid him, but by then she was already looking for a parking spot in the rather shady part of town. Sure, someone selling occult books and trinkets – and, for the right price, information – maybe had the money to live near the Archer mansion, but he would not make his office there. Good thing then that her car was long since past its prime as she parked it front of a boarded up, graffiti sprayed building that might once have been a grocery store.

Noah’s family had done a lot for the town, but he himself had not continued his father’s work and ever since then, the poorer parts were falling back into disrepair and the filth Lucius had lifted them out of. He was not even dead five years and yet the eastern part of town was as shabby as before he had started his efforts twenty years ago, a time Sharon could barely remember.

It was beyond her and she shook her head again at Noah for not continuing his fath…

She froze mid-thought. Sharon hated the unbidden thought that had suddenly entered her mind, but a small, yet insistent voice in her mind told her that maybe Noah had been right to denounce his father’s way… if Lucius had made a deal with the demon in the cottage… She snorted at her lively imagination and swiftly got out of the car. Not a single soul had set foot into the cottage for almost a century, everybody in town knew that. So Noah’s father had been the good Samaritan everyone knew him to be.

Sharon forcefully shook her head again, but the nagging voice remained. Maybe Lucius had made a deal with the devil and Noah had it right…

No matter, she then decided and put the thought of Noah out of her mind. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

Sharon debated putting lipstick on, as it usually made her feel more confident, but she knew the reaction it would elicit from her contact. Eventually, she settled for absolutely no last-minute make-up and put on a long cardigan she found in the trunk, longer and warmer than strictly necessary in this weather, but concealing her figure as best she could manage.

She checked her purse one last time and then made her way over to the store of occult books and items. To this day she did not know whether he made any money off it or if it was simply a cover for something else, information brokering maybe, but she did not question it any more. Instead she made her way into the store, wincing at the tinkling sound of the bell above the door.

As always, the air was thick with incense of some kind and Sharon wished for a bottle of water to clear the fog the scent conjured up in her mind, but she had none and so she decided to just press on and get this ugly business over with.

“Ruben?”, she called out for the shop’s owner as he was not to be seen behind the counter. As per usual.

“Ruben?”, she called his name again. If that even was his name…

“In back.”, came his voice from the back room behind the counter and Sharon shivered. It was… strange, troubling. His voice was dark and deep, a bit like Noah’s, but in contrast to her friend’s – former friend’s – voice, Ruben’s was a confusing mixture of making her pleasantly tingly in all the wrong places and frightening her out of her wits. The worst of it all was that it was not as overall unpleasant as she thought it ought to be.

Balling her fists, Sharon walked around the counter and through the red bead curtain that separated the actual shop from what a customer would assume to be the storage room. Only that it was not.

She cautiously walked through the short, pitch dark corridor into the back of the store and pushed open the black door that stood slightly ajar. The sight shocked her every time, although she could not pinpoint why. The dark room was barely lit with about a dozen candles, their smoke and the incense in one corner thickening the air with a scent she had never smelled anywhere outside of Ruben’s shop. The smell was even thicker in back. The walls were lined with shelves laden with books and tomes, every single one at least twice Sharon’s age judging from their appearance, some much, much older. In the middle there were two red velvet arm chairs and a table carved from dark wood and she was grateful that her eyes could not make out the intricate designs on it with much detail, for Sharon feared what she might see otherwise.

And Ruben. He was towering, almost as tall as Noah, but while his presence promised safety and comfort, Ruben’s awoke Sharon’s most basic instincts to be wary, stay alert no matter what.

“Ah, back so soon?”, Ruben asked in his dark, deep voice and she shivered, hating herself for the effect it had on her, making her heart beat faster with both terror and arousal. It confused her and she snapped: “Yes, I’m back as you can see.”

The moment she closed her mouth, she wished she had kept it closed.

“Watch your tongue, girl.”, Ruben whispered harshly and advanced on her, looking down at her, crowding her against the black door in her back, standing far too close as he suddenly smiled, “Or use it in better ways.”

That quick twist threw her for a loop and Sharon glared at him as took a step to the side, avoiding him. Which he knew, for he chuckled deeply before he shrugged carelessly: “You’ll come round.”

“I have a question.”, she stated her purpose, the reason why she had been insane enough to come back, but Ruben merely raised a dark blonde eyebrow, “Do you think I care?”

“I have your payment.”, Sharon told him, pulling the stack of bills out of her purse, but Ruben merely grinned wickedly at her, “Money? Not interested.”

With that he turned his back on her and went to one of the shelves, plucked a seemingly random book from the highest row and began to read.

“But…”, Sharon muttered and then bit her tongue to regain her composure, regain her strategy. Every conversation with that bastard was a goddamn game of chess.

“Don’t you want to know whether your information was worth anything?”, she challenged and it had the planned, if not desired effect. Ruben spun around and glared at her out of his maybe blue, maybe green eyes. But then Sharon’s heart plummeted as he once again grinned and advanced on her. She stood her ground, but when he moved, he was so fast she could never have stopped him and so she shrieked at first in fright, then in pain as his hand closed around one of her wrists and held it in a vice-like grip.

“Of course it was worth your money.”, Ruben said in a sweet voice paired with a grin that hardly concealed his anger, “Judging from that painful scar, you succeeded. So my information was worth what I initially asked for. On top of your money.”

With that he let her go as suddenly as he had grabbed her and resumed reading his book, completely unfazed. Sharon thought bitterly that after selling her soul to a demon, maybe selling her body to Ruben did not seem so horrifying anymore, but still the mere thought made her sick.

“So tell me, pumpkin.”, Ruben continued before she had recovered her senses, “If your payment was lacking the first time, why should I trade with you again?”

“Because…”, Sharon slowly spoke and then nervously licked her lips, not believing that she was actually considering this, but the words were out before she could stop herself, “If this information proves to be worth as much as your last, I will give you what you asked for. On top of my money.”

Silence fell and Sharon only heard her own heartbeat. Ruben was staring at the book in his hands, unblinking, but surely not reading anymore. She saw the tension in his shoulders and it made her think that the green shirt on his back would soon have to burst because of it. Then she saw him glance at her out of the corner of his eyes, his tongue quickly darting out to wet his lips before he quietly threatened: “Don’t toy with me.”

“I don’t.”, Sharon said with a lot more confidence than she felt, and she flinched as one long stride brought Ruben directly in front of her, the book falling to the carpet with a dull thud. He rested his hands behind her on the door, effectively trapping her between his body and the wood.

She was trapped, at his mercy. Sharon hoped to the heavens that she had not overplayed her hand.

“Prove it.”, he demanded.

Sharon’s eyes widened with shock and it merely made him laugh at her. He cocked his head to the side and asked with mocking concern: “Aww, are you afraid? You damn well should be.”

“I know.”, Sharon said, not knowing where she found those words, but she did not care, she knew them to be the right thing to say, the only thing to say, “But with the state of my life now, it is forfeit anyway.”

“So you would only give yourself to me because you consider yourself as good as dead?”, Ruben growled angrily, making her doubt her prior surety, but Sharon pressed on, “You know I don’t want you, so…”

“Oh, but you do.”, Ruben grinned at her, inching closer, “Don’t deny it.”

“Fine.”, Sharon hissed like a cornered cat, “Part of me might. But you won’t ever get to that part if you don’t help me.”

“Are you sure about that?”, he asked, his hand suddenly on her neck, squeezing just this side of painful.

“Yes.”, she croaked, her voice barely audible, “I know I’m right.”

“And why is that?”, Ruben asked, releasing his hold on her neck slightly, so she could reply, “Because taking something by force is nowhere near as much fun as manipulating someone to give it willingly despite not wanting to do that.”

He threw his head back in genuine laughter this time and when he quieted down, still standing much too close to Sharon, he drew his forefinger from her temple to the hollow in her throat in something that resembled a caress, but made her shiver… not entirely unpleasantly, but terrifying nonetheless.

“You are a lot smarter than I thought, pumpkin.”, Ruben praised and finally, finally stepped back, leaned against one of the armchairs, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he nodded towards her, “Ask your questions and you shall have my answers.”

Sharon took a deep breath, hoping herself to be almost home free by now, yet she knew she was anything but.

“I did what you told me, found the letter, got all the ingredients. And you’ve seen that it worked. My soul… is bound.”, Sharon began, her voice faltering, but Ruben was unfazed, “Yes, congratulations, you sold your soul. That’s what you wanted.”

“No.”, Sharon hissed, but then sniffled, “I wanted to save my mother.”

Ruben sighed and she cut him off with a harsh gesture, not ready to take another harsh reply like the one Noah had given her, and then continued: “I sold my soul to save her, but she is dead. So it did not work.”

“What?”, Ruben asked, his eyes narrowed, “Did you do exactly as I instructed you?”

“Yes.”, Sharon nodded, glaring at him for thinking her too dumb to carry out orders, “To the letter. But the deal was interrupted. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“How?”, he demanded to know and Sharon closed her eyes as she whispered, “Noah Archer.”

Her heart was heavy knowing that he considered her dead to him. She knew Noah meant something like that.

When she opened her eyes again, Ruben had pursed his lips in thought and her grief faced with his indifference made something in Sharon snap: “She died last night, so the demon did not keep his end of the bargain and yet I forfeited my soul!”

“The demon did not betray you.”, Ruben quietly mused, but Sharon scoffed, “Of course he did, he’s a demon!”

“They make deals and keep them.”, Ruben told her, “Sure, they collect your soul and mostly they get the better end of the bargain, but they keep their deals. Something else happened.”

Sharon stared at him, wide eyed, and blinked in disbelief as she stuttered: “W-what could’ve ha…”

With a horrified gasp she sank back against the door and slowly slid down to the floor as she felt her knees give out.

“No…”, she mumbled, “No, no, no. No.”

Ruben watched her curiously, but silently, yet all Sharon managed to do was shake her head as tears of hurt and disbelief, despair rolled down her cheeks and she prayed: “No, no, no. Please no.”

Horrifying minutes later, she looked up, finding Ruben still perched on the armrest, still watching her keenly and she sighed: “Damn it.”

“Care to enlighten me?”, he asked lightly, grinning despite her pain and she hated herself for promising him that particular boon if he helped her out, but she replied, “Noah.”

Ruben frowned and she laughed bitterly before she tried to explain: “In a twisted kinda way it even makes sense. Noah wasn’t sure whether he had really disrupted the ritual, but hey, if the demon can’t fulfil his end of the deal, he can’t claim mine. So before the demon could heal her, she had to…to die. Oh my God.”

Ruben blinked at her, then asked: “You really think that Archer prat had the balls to kill someone?”

“Noah?”, Sharon asked and when he nodded, she did not hesitate, even though it terrified her that she was so sure of the truth, “Yes. He could kill.”

She even thought it probable that he had killed before tonight.

“Hmm.”, Ruben merely hummed, then shrugged, infuriating her as he did not care for her mother’s fate in the slightest, although she should have known, but before she could yell at him for it, he asked, “So what is your question?”

“I sold my soul for nothing.”, Sharon whispered hoarsely, the cruel reality of it catching up with her, “And now I want it back.”

Ruben whistled, impressed, as he muttered: “You got balls, girl. And you’re insane.”

“Maybe.”, Sharon shot back, “What do you care?”

“As long as I get my end of the bargain, I don’t give a fuck.”, Ruben shrugged, but then chuckled darkly, “Although, if I get my end, I will give you a thorough fuck.”

Sharon shivered, both from heat and cold, desire and disgust, then she pulled herself together and spat: “Now give me the information.”

“Hold your horses.”, Ruben said with a smile and crouched down in front of her, almost seeming as if he cared, but there was a thinly veiled danger to him, surrounding him like an almost tangible aura, even though Sharon found that thought ridiculous. And she was proven right as he added: “Angry as you are now, you’re of no use, so calm down. Then I’ll tell you what I know.”

Sharon glared at him, but she had to admit he was right, so she took a few breaths and she truly was calmer when she looked at Ruben again, even though she knew she should never let her guard down around him. Never.

“There’s a good girl.”, he praised and stood, even offered his hand to pull her to her feet, but she preferred to get up on her own, merely making him chuckle because of it.

Yet she followed as he made his way over to another bookshelf, scanned the endless lines of ancient books and then pulled one hefty, leathery tome down, stroking his hand over the cover. It sent a shiver down Sharon’s spine, for one because that book just seemed wrong and second because she could not help but imagine Ruben’s hand doing exactly that on her skin. What was wrong with her…?

To distract herself from it, she glanced at the pages from his side and had to stare in shock. The pictures in that book… Sharon had never seen anything so haunting, yet she had no idea what she was looking at.

“Here it is.”, Ruben said softly, making her flinch nonetheless, “This is what you’re looking for.”

He lowered the book a bit so she could look at the picture he was indicating and she gulped. It showed another book. On its cover was a face that might have been supposed to be the one of a goat, yet it had eerily human features, a lolling tongue and eyes seemingly ablaze with menace. Even though it was just a depiction made in black ink, nothing more.

“This is the Book of Abberations.”, Ruben told her and added with a crude grin, “Telling the traveller of demonic roads where not to go.”

Sharon glanced up at him, only to find him already looking at her and it was both enticing and alarming to feel his eyes on her.

“Why do I need it?”, she managed to ask, inwardly cursing her voice for its hoarse quality and as Ruben’s smile deepened, she knew he had heard it too, and he had liked it, “It not only tells you where not to go, but also provides a way back. It’s your only chance, pumpkin.”

She nodded, but did not trust her voice until she had awkwardly cleared her throat: “Where can I find it?”

“I don’t know.”, he said and Sharon stared at him, then he added, “All copies were lost to the ages. But I have an idea where you might find one.”

She did not need to ask: “The old Archer mansion.”

“Insane, ballsy and smart. And sexy.”, Ruben growled playfully and reached for her, but Sharon quickly stepped away from him. She had no illusions, she got away because he allowed it, but still she hissed: “That information isn’t worth anything yet.”

Ruben gave her a heated look, then smiled again and shrugged: “Alright. Once you’ve found the book, I’m expecting you in my bed.”

Sharon trembled at these words, but he only laughed and added: “Or the rug, the table… I’m not picky.”

Sharon scoffed and turned on her heel to storm out of the shop, but Ruben called after her: “Don’t forget to use that spell that will hide your presence in the mansion. And remember, I get my money in addition to your sweet ass.”

Without a word Sharon yanked the stack off counted bills from her purse and threw it in his general direction, not caring where it ended up. She all but fled from the building, hearing Ruben laugh behind her and the sound followed her out onto the street, haunted her.

She could not help but wonder if she had just sold her soul a second time.


	4. Chapter 4

The amount of time he waited would not change a single, damned thing. Noah knew that, but he could not bring himself to unlock the door either way. The keys were clutched in his fist, their weight too heavy and their edges bluntly digging into his palm. He should not be here, did not want to be here.

Yet he sighed and, in a sudden fit of fatalism, pushed the key into the rusty gate. It mattered not that the old mansion was slowly falling apart, Noah actually thought good riddance, still he knew had he had to set foot in the damn thing again.

“Damn it, Sharon.”, he muttered under his breath as the gate reluctantly opened, groaning its discomfort into the chilly afternoon air. Noah had not been here in years, ever since his father had finally been six feet under. It was only fitting he had to come back for her. He had always done the stupidest things for Sharon.

“Damn it.”, he mumbled again, stalling senselessly, then he shook his head and pushed on. The path through the garden was a lot wilder than it had been years ago, he was almost sure that no one but foxes and mice were able to navigate the backyard by now, but the pompous driveway had kept the vegetation at bay enough so that Noah made his way to the front door without difficulty.

Apart from the difficulty it was to simply be here.

The front door groaned as well from years of disuse and inside he smelled the stale air, the dust and mould of a house not lived in. He took a deep breath nonetheless and slowly released it. He had grown up in these halls, had run to this very door whenever he had heard the postman or the milkman come, he had hidden in the closet from his father’s rage… and his mother’s neglect.

His arms and shoulders ached from the tension that had his hands curled into tight fists and it took a lot of effort to unclench them, but when he did, his heart was still beating too hard. He had to get out of here as soon as possible. Yet he stayed, knowing that it would only get worse.

Stubbornly he made his way to the left and entered the parlour, a room he had always hated with passion and avoided for his father had spent most of his time here or in his study on the upper floor. Guests had usually been entertained in the parlour, especially if they were of his father’s beliefs, for the way to the shrine and the library was not far.

The shrine… it still made Noah shudder that he had to come to nine years of age to understand that the shrine in their house was nothing like that in other houses. It had been Martha who had made him realise this…

Noah bit his lip at the thought of her and supressed another sob with sheer force of will. She had died last night and the only thing he was now fighting for was her daughter’s soul, as Martha’s was already safe. His, however, was doomed. He knew that.

But Sharon he could save, so he strode on into the library. It should have been a wonderful sight. The walls were lined with bookshelves from the floor to the ceiling of the upper level, there were nooks to make room for additional shelves and all of them were filled to the brim with books. Yet the sight only made him sad, for the entire room was a lie. Sure, his parents had read the classical works, he distinctly remembered his mother being immersed in one of Shakespeare’s works and being equally immersed in gin, merely sending him away when he had stumbled in, a young boy back then, crying for his mother after he had cut himself playing in the garden. She had not even looked up from the lines of poetry.

Noah snorted through a grim smile as he went through the library, looking for the way to the one shelf that was even more of a lie, as it could be pulled back to reveal a very different kind of library. But as he passed the table in the middle of the room, he paused.

“What are you doing here?”, he mused under is breath as he saw the book lying there in the dust. It was the Book of Aberrations. The first thing he noticed, after the gruesome cover, was that the sheet of dust on the table was not disturbed, so no one could have been here recently. But the book was free of any dust whatsoever… and it should not have been here, out in the open. His parents would not have been this careless with their possessions.

Nervously glancing around, Noah was on the lookout for an intruder, as far-fetched as it seemed. No one had the keys to the mansion and the windows were all intact… There was no sound apart from the groaning of an old, disused house.

Satisfied that no one was here, Noah then glanced at the book again, but dismissed it. He would not find out why it was here just by looking at it and to be honest, in his last months, his father had been out of it… and the house and its master had never been the same after he had sacrificed Mother.

So Noah ignored the worthless book and instead finally made his way over to the last bookshelf on the right, passing it and turning the corner into a corridor filled with doors interspersed with cabinets and more shelves. The one on the left was his destination. He opened the top drawer, felt for the button on the inside and pressed the smooth, inconspicuous part of the wood no one would find unless they knew it was there. He distinctly felt the mechanism behind it unlock with a soft click, still well-oiled even after years of neglect, as well as the joints, for the shelf next to it swung aside easily and soundlessly.

He had hardly ever been down here, for he had broken all ties to his father long before he had tried to initiate his only son into the “worship”. Still Noah had inherited it all. He still did not know if it was his father’s twisted sense of humour or duty that had made him the sole heir. But as it was not important, Noah shoved the musing aside and flicked on the light.

Of course it was immaculate, the light seemingly from a window, even though it was artificial underground. The steps hardly creaked under his weight and what sounds from outside had been audible upstairs were now hushed as Noah descended underground, into the heart of the Mansion. And its rotten core.

Even though he knew what awaited him, he still felt fear pulse through his veins and his heart clench. The altar. It was both beautiful and terrifying, a massive block of blackest stone polished to an unnatural gleam. It, too, had a basin in its centre, surrounded by runes, glyphs and demonic symbols laid into the surface, the crushed ruby glimmering blood red against the black stone.

He could not remember it, but his own soul had been bound to the demon in front of this altar. Unconsciously, Noah rubbed the scar on his chest and winced when he realised it. He felt the scar pulse and ache, almost believed to sense the presence of the demon, but he knew it was shut into the other dimension. That hardly made him feel better though.

He tried his best to ignore it and stepped over to the bookshelf down here, housing the really important tomes. But he stopped dead in his tracks before the altar.

Here. It had been here, in this very spot. Noah shivered and felt cold. He had not held much love for his mother, at least not after years of being ignored, his pleas falling on deaf ears. But he had to gulp when he realised he was standing where her lifeless body had fallen after his father had slit her throat to make the demon prolong his own miserable life. He could not see any blood, the wooden floor spotless and polished to a shine under the layer of dust he had been disturbing. Alas, no one had seen the cancerous cells in his father’s body, either.

Not that Noah had cared at that point. But he determinedly pushed the thought of his parents away and instead focused on the task at hand. He had to find a way to help Sharon, and the sooner, the better.

With a sigh he strode past the altar, scratching his chest again without thought and when he realised his fingers on his scar, he hissed angrily. The demon was definitely closer to this realm in the damned Mansion.

It just proved what Noah had known all along, he had to get away from it. But before he had to find what he had come for, so he made his way over to the first bookshelf and let his gaze wander over the old, withered spines of the tomes. Many were in Greek, some in Latin and he even recognised some letters as Sumerian, but he had no idea what those books were about. He picked out one of the books at random, even though he tried to convince himself he had a particular reason other than utter ignorance, but as soon as he had opened it, he put it back.

He did not need to know more about human sacrifices than he already did from first-hand experience.

So he tried again with another book and another, but all that got him was grimy finger tips. Noah had to admit defeat. He had no idea what he was looking for exactly. He had spent years trying to find a way to save his own soul, fruitlessly of course, until he had finally given up and accepted his fate. But saving someone else? That was an entirely different matter and he had to admit: He needed help.

“Damn it.”, he cursed under his breath as he put the last book in the row back in its place, “Damn it.”

If there was one thing he had wanted even less than coming back to the mansion, it was having to go see Jonathan.

But it was no use. Noah turned around and left the shrine, left the library as he had found them, apart from the footsteps in the thick layer of dust. At the doorway to the hall, he turned back and wondered if he should try and hide his being here. A futile endeavour, he knew that, for it was too late now. Maybe a spell would have prevented him from disturbing the place, but he had not wanted to tap into that kind of magic anyway. He wanted nothing to do with it.

So for better or worse, he left the mansion, thinking that it was his house anyway. Who cared whether or not he did anything in there? The demon did, of course, but Noah had no intention of giving him any more ammunition than that bastard already had. Same went for Jonathan.

Back in his car, Noah did not start the engine right away, but instead tried to gather his thoughts. He hated having to turn to Jonathan, but there was nothing for it. So he counted the money in his wallet, found it to be enough for Jonathan’s usual fare and then he started his car and drove off, spraying gravel just out of spite.

As he saw the dark pine woods fly by and make room for suburban homes and then skyscrapers, Noah tried to anticipate what Jonathan might ask for in addition to the money. There was always something he wanted and if it was just another book from the library, Noah was inclined to give it to him. If it was not for his suspicion that Jonathan might do even more damage with it than Noah’s father could have.

Whatever Jonathan was, he was powerful.

So the first thing Noah did after he got out of the car was to check his weapons. Both knives and both guns were there, so he at least knew he was well prepared on that front, if not intellectually. He knew that, knew that he should have spent more time preparing for this undesirable visit, but he had to act, so he did.

He did, however, not bother with pleasantries. Once inside the shop, he made his way past the counter towards the dark door behind which Jonathan’s own library was situated and he bellowed as a greeting: “Jonathan!”

“Yes, I heard you barge in.”, the other man said, unfazed, from in front of one of his shelves and he did not even turn around when Noah entered the library, “What do you want?”

“Answers.”, Noah said tartly, but his reply was a chuckle, “Naturally.”

Then Jonathan turned to face him, invitingly opening his arms as he said with a flourish: “Welcome to my humble abode. How can I serve you, Mr. Archer?”

Noah grumbled, but tried his best not to show his anger. Jonathan knew magic, but he also knew people, that much was clear to Noah and he refused to be manipulated like most of the bastard’s clients.

“I need a way to break the bond between a demon and a human soul.”

“Impossible.”, Jonathan quickly shook his head, “We’ve talked about this…”

“Not my soul.”, Noah interrupted him before he could go into one of his scholarly monologues he had heard when Jonathan had given counsel to his father.

“Another’s then?”, Jonathan mused and licked his lips in thought, staring thoughtfully at Noah.

“Is there a way?”, he harshly demanded to know, in no mood for antics, but Jonathan merely pursed his lips, tapping his chin idly. Noah was just about to ask again – or say something even his mother would have frowned upon – when Jonathan relented: “There might be.”

“That’s not an answer.”, Noah shot at him and Jonathan gave him a wry smile, “No, it isn’t. But before I can give you answers, I’ll need some of my own.”

“Ask.”, Noah prompted him, but then added, “Whether I’ll answer is up to me.”

“Of course it is.”, Jonathan mildly said with a smile Noah wished to wipe from his face with his fist, yet he stayed still, waited just inside the door while Jonathan pulled a few tomes from the shelves, placed them on the low table and then took a seat in one of the red chairs before he asked: “Whose soul are we talking about?”

“None of your business.”, Noah barked and Jonathan merely chuckled again, “Alright. So I take it she is important to you.”

Noah tried, he really tried, not to let his surprise show, but he should have known that Jonathan was able to manipulate even him.

“She is. Alright.”, Jonathan concluded, “That will make things easier.”

“How?”, Noah asked harshly and Jonathan merely shrugged, “It means you’re willing to do a lot. Sacrifice a lot.”

Indeed he was. But he was not ready to sacrifice everything for Sharon. No even for her.

Jonathan, however, did not need to know any of that.

“What do I have to do?”, he asked and Jonathan glanced at the stack of books before he revealed, “First, you should find a copy of the Book of Aberrations.”

“What for?”, Noah asked, “That book is useless and we both know that.”

Jonathan laughed quietly, then he nodded: “Truly it is. I just wanted to see how much you know. How well your father taught you.”

That had been thrown in there just to goad him, Noah knew it, but he could not help balling his fists at the thought of his father. Jonathan’s glance at his hands told him that he knew that as well and Noah cursed himself for revealing even that little.

“So, why lie about the Book?”, he tried to distract from his blunder and Jonathan accepted it, “It’s no use for what you want to do. But I would like to have it in my collection. Pay me with the book and you’ll have the answers.”

“No.”, Noah flat-out refused.

“Then there’s the door.”, Jonathan pointed behind him and it took all of Noah’s self-control not to beat the answer out of the other man.

“No.”, he instead said again, his voice halfway to a growl in his anger, “Name another price, but I will get those answers.”

Jonathan stared at him, his hands clasped together under his chin.

“Now, Jonathan.”, Noah demanded, but the other man simply kept staring. Then he sighed and took the first book from his stack.

“Here.”, he said and waved Noah closer so that both could look at the book, “I don’t know where you can find it or even what it looks like, but this is the book you need.”

He pointed at a description scribbled into the margins of the book and Noah’s heart skipped a beat. That was his father’s handwriting.

“I’m only telling you because it won’t work.”, Jonathan whispered as he looked up at Noah, “Many have tried it before and nothing has worked so far. Nothing. Save yourself and forget her.”

“Never.”, Noah whispered as he read the description again, memorising it.

“You poor sod.”, Jonathan chuckled cruelly, “She really twisted your head, didn’t she?”

Noah glared at him for that, but he did not explain himself. He would not have been able to even if he had tried.

“What do you want for this?”, he asked instead as he put some distance between the man and himself, clenching his fist so as not to reach for his wallet already.

“That one’s for free.”, Jonathan surprised him and when Noah could not keep that out of his expression, the other laughed, “I told you, it won’t work. You can either realise that now and save your own skin… or you can try nonetheless and doom both your souls. I mean… yours can’t get any more doomed than it already is.”

Noah could not help the enraged growl that escaped his chest, but Jonathan cocked his head and mused: “Neither of you can get any more doomed. You’ll just bring the demon his pay early.”

Noah was determined not to pay the demon at all, at least not with Sharon’s soul, but he said no such thing, he silently turned around and was out the door in a few seconds. Thankfully, Jonathan had not said anything more to the matter, for Noah already knew he was doomed. He just could not bear to subject Sharon to the same fate, even if she had done it to herself. He just could not let that come to pass.

With this new information, he made his way back to his car and left the parking spot with squealing tires. A book bound in red leather, written in Latin and ancient Greek, the title translating to “Blood bonds”. He knew that book, knew it was in his family’s library. He had no idea where exactly, but he knew that he had seen it.

There was no telling if Jonathan had told him the truth or fed him a lie, but Noah distinctly remembered having seen that particular book after… his father had sacrificed Mother. So it was about deals and, he thought, as he retraced the way he had taken before, now suburban homes slowly making way for pine trees, the book at least had to be about altering deals. Because his mother had been sworn to the same demon, yet his father had gained a few years of wretched life for delivering her soul to the demon before her time.

He did not want to go back there again, but he needed to. Noah grimaced as he caught himself rubbing his scar again, but his resolve remained unchanged. He went back to the mansion.


	5. Chapter 5

Sharon quietly shut the door of her car behind her and bitterly thought that it was a good thing Noah already considered her dead to him. Otherwise he would never be able to forgive her for this.

She sighed, fighting back tears for the loss of both her best friend and her mother in one night, then she made her way through the backyard of the Archer mansion. It was thick, a real jungle, for goodness’ sake, but it was better this way. No one from the road would see her if she came in this way. As she had before.

Shame ran through her, but she fought it down. She had only done this to save her mother and now that she was gone, Sharon needed to save herself. Even without Noah’s help, uptight bastard.

Grumbling to herself she cursed the choice of wearing a skirt, but she had to don something else after her visit to Ruben. Everything had reeked of him… As Sharon stumbled over another root in the backyard, she was grateful she had at least chosen boots.

It was not easy to manoeuvre the thick undergrowth, but she made her way to the parlour and out of idiotic fear, glanced into the room.

“Fuck.”, she whispered and promptly ducked out of sight again. There were foot prints. Someone was in the mansion!

Sharon bit her lip and furiously tried to think of something. Judging from the size of the shoeprints, it was a tall man… and the only one who had keys, apart form her stolen copy, was Noah. But she had not seen his car out front before.

“Sod it.”, she muttered and glanced into the parlour again. There was no telling how old those prints were, could have been anything from between a week ago and just now.

So she decided to chance it, what the fuck. She dug through her purse for the scroll Ruben had given her for her first stealthy visit to the mansion and she recited the words that were written on the parchment in fading black ink. She figured it must have been Latin, but she had no idea. She knew, however, that the spell worked.

Once she had recited the words, she felt the magic surround her. Now she had to be quick. Three minutes, no more, or she would have to recite the words again and every time, they faded a bit more.

She reached for her pocket knife and pried the window open. It was so old, it was almost too easy. Breaking into the local high school or doctor’s office had been a lot harder, but then again, everybody knew better than to piss off the Archers.

The window slid open with a slight sound and Sharon climbed in, checking to see that her steps really left no trace in the layer of dust. She listened carefully for any sound, but heard nothing. So she quickly stepped over to the first shelf of books and scanned their spines for the title she was looking for.

Nothing…

The next shelf yielded the same result.

“Damn it.”, she whispered, she was running out of time. She turned around in the crazy hope that she might find a clue where to look, when she found something even better. Or worse. The Book of Aberrations was sitting there on the table, all by itself as if…presented.

She hated that thought, more so because the letter she had needed to find for the ritual had also been left out in the open. But by whom?

Sharon quickly shook her head, not willing to debate this purely academic question with herself right now. Instead she snatched up the book and turned on her heel, hastily going back to the window through which she had entered.

She had her hand on the window sill to help her climb through, when she was grabbed.

A hand closed around her throat and yanked her back so forcefully, her shoulders crashed into a bookshelf, the Book of Aberrations falling from her hands and landing on the hardwood floor with a thump, just like a few other books.

“What are you doing here?”, her attacker growled and it took her a while to recognise Noah. He was towering over her, choking her and pressing her into the heavy bookshelf with all his strength.

“Noah…”, she croaked, but he did not relent, “Answer me.”

She did not, could not, but tears welled up in her eyes and she glanced downwards, to the book, without thought. Noah caught that and snorted: “The Book of Aberrations? It’s useless.”

“W-what…?”, Sharon began and he let go of her, but she remained at the bookshelf, leaning against it for support her weak knees could not give as she coughed, “What?”

“It won’t save you.”, Noah told her and then muttered, “You foolish girl.”

“Fuck you.”, Sharon hissed at him, “I tried to help my mother…!”

“And doomed yourself in the process, probably along with her!”, Noah shouted, his voice out of control and she shied back, but then her anger and frustration reared their ugly heads and she slapped him. Hard.

She had not even thought about it, merely realised what she had done when she felt the burn on her palm and saw the red mark on Noah’s cheek, quickly blossoming into a deep shade of crimson. With a growl she did not think human, Noah grabbed her wrists and yanked them above her head pinning her to the book shelf behind her and stared at her, the anger in his eyes burning hotter than her sore palm.

Sharon had no idea why, but something in her snapped. Without thought she raised her head and pressed her lips against Noah’s in a punishing kiss, devoid of the love she had felt for him half her life, instead filled with rage. She felt him flinch against her, but when Sharon hooked her leg around his hips, something in him shattered as well.

Noah held her wrists in one of his big hands, the other dove into her short hair and angled her head any way he chose to allow his tongue to delve as deeply into her mouth as he wanted. Her thoughts were gone, everything was just a blur of emotions suppressed for too long and her desire took over, wiped away everything else.

Sharon managed to free one of her hands, only because he let her and when Noah then stared at her, wide eyed and panting, she wordlessly pushed her underwear down and stepped out of them, now naked under her skirt. Both his hands went into her hair and roughly pulled her against his lips again, but although his kisses left her breathless, she did not remain idle. Her hands found their way to his crotch, felt his hardness through the black denim and he groaned hungrily, pressed her against the shelf again, but Sharon was quick. She almost tore through the belt, button and zipper, then she shoved his jeans down just low enough to touch him, hot and hard.

That was all the time she got. With a grunt of effort and lust, Noah lifted her off the ground, her legs closing round his hips automatically, as if they had done this dozens of times before. He yanked her skirt out of the way and Sharon could only wonder why they had never done this before when he plunged in.

All thought was erased and any that could have entered her brain were driven out by Noah’s hard, quick thrusts. He held her suspended with just one of his strong arms behind her back, his now free left hand wandered to her breasts and stroked her nipple through the material of her blouse, an almost gentle counterpart to his rough movements inside of her. Her own arms closed around his neck to plunder his mouth with feverish kisses, the chilly room filled with their ragged breaths and the sound of skin on skin.

Sharon broke away to gulp in much needed air, but it was forced out of her in an unrestricted moan as Noah’s fingers closed just a bit too tightly over one breast. With a strangled yell, she pushed off the bookshelf, only now realising that a few more books had fallen victim to her actions, but not caring in the least.

She made Noah stumble in surprise, but he got the hint. Still holding her to him and never once ceasing the hard thrusts of his hips, he brought them to the cold hardwood floor, Sharon above him. They moved together, giving as harshly as they both got and when Noah’s fingers moved under her skirt to touch her while still driving into her, she shrieked.

Noah’s groan was almost drowned out by her galloping heartbeat, but she felt him quiver and come between her thighs. She was well and truly spent.

Sharon realised that she must have collapsed on top of him when she heard his heartbeat, felt it against her cheek and his arms came around her, one of his hands in her hair, gently stroking through the strands as Noah breathlessly murmured: “We should’ve done that ages ago. I love you.”

That did it. Sharon flinched and quickly sat up.

“Sharon?”, he asked, still panting, but she ignored him and climbed off him, turning her back on him as she did.

“Sharon?”, he asked again as she was already back by the bookshelf, bending down to pick up the book she had come for and wincing because of her sore body, “Damn it, Sharon, talk to me!”

“What is there to talk about?”, she whispered without looking at him.

“What is…? Sharon!”, Noah stuttered and she heard him fix himself up, but she was on her way towards the window.

“Oh, hell no you don’t!”, Noah growled and grabbed her around the waist, firmly pressing her back against his chest and she felt it rise and fall, felt his ragged breath on her ear, “Don’t run away from me!”

She struggled against him and he let her go, but Sharon whirled around and slapped him once again. Noah barely flinched, he merely focused his burning gaze on her and asked, dangerously calm: “What was that for?”

“You know it.”, Sharon spat and saw him gulp, but she threw it in his face nonetheless, screamed at the top of her lungs, “You killed my mother!”

Noah closed his eyes for a moment, then he reached for her hands and despite her struggle, he did not let her go this time, instead he pulled her against his chest and enclosed her in a hug.

It was warmth, it was safety… it was Noah. She cried. Against all her efforts, she sobbed into his chest and let him caress her back, rock her through her agony.

When her tears slowly subsided, she heard him whisper, his voice strained as if he was in pain: “I had to.”

“Why?”, she sobbed, but held onto him, felt and heard how he heaved a deep sigh before he answered, “If the demon had gotten to her, he would have claimed her soul as well, maybe by threatening her to claim yours and she could take your place. In the end he would have had both of you.”

“He has my soul anyway.”, Sharon said through new tears, but Noah leaned back and gently wiped those away as he promised, “Not if I can help it.”

She yanked herself away from him and hissed: “What would you do? Kill me too?”

“No!”, Noah said and grabbed her hand, pulled her closer, “No. I have to cleanse your soul somehow. Mine is already lost, but yours can be saved.”

“How?”, Sharon asked, tears falling again, “You said that book was useless.”

“And it is.”, Noah shook his head, “But maybe… maybe there’s a way. I asked a source of my father’s for advice and I found the book he told me about in the library. He’s scum and a liar, but there’s always been some truth to his words. Maybe I can find the right spell, ritual. Whatever. As long as it saves you.”

“But…?”, Sharon whimpered and Noah gave her a sad, wry smile, “My soul is doomed no matter what I do. Yours can be saved. I love you too much not to try everything in my power.”

Ashamed, Sharon hid her face in her hands, then she muttered: “We are both idiots.”

“Guess we are.”, Noah shrugged and dragged his left hand through his long hair, “Let’s see what we can find.”

Sharon shivered, then she turned towards one of the shelves and asked: “Where did you find this book?”

“Not in this library.”, Noah spoke under his breath and as she looked at him inquiringly, he sighed sadly and nodded towards a door Sharon had not realised before, “Come. I’ll show you the deepest, darkest secret my family has.”

Saying that, he made his way towards that door and Sharon followed him into a narrow corridor, but she gasped when she saw the shelf pulled away from the wall and a stairwell behind it.

“What…?”, she asked, but Noah signalled her to be quiet. She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, but then they went wide when he drew a gun from somewhere.

Noah once again signalled for her to be quiet and to follow him, then he made his way down the stairs. How they did not creak, Sharon did not know, but halfway down she, too, heard something. Chanting. The hissing of a match being lighted.

Noah stepped out into the room, gun at the ready, but he faltered.

“Jonathan.”, he whispered, then readily fired the gun. The man she knew as Ruben flicked his wrist, then he leisurely picked the bullet out of the air and spoke as a greeting: “The name is Hunter Davenport.”

Noah did not reply, he fired another shot and when it, too, stopped, to Sharon’s immense surprise, he dropped to his knees and pulled a knife from his boot that he quickly threw. Ruben… Hunter, merely sighed exasperatedly and the knife, too, stopped in mid-air right in front of his face: “Can we stop those stupid parlour tricks?”

“What are you doing here?”, Noah growled, gun still at the ready, and Hunter chuckled, “What do you think, genius? I’m freeing the demon.”

“You can’t.”, Noah shot back and Sharon’s terrified, utterly overburdened gaze went from one man to the other, Noah standing there with a gun she had not known he possessed, aiming it at the slimy bastard she had known as Ruben, who was now standing in front of an altar of deepest black, a candle lit on it and a dagger or something in his hand…his left hand.

“Why?”, Hunter asked nonchalantly, “Because only an Archer can?”

Noah frowned at that and Hunter grinned: “Then I have good news for you: I’m your uncle. Bastard son of your granddaddy and his maid.”

“No…”, Noah breathed, but Hunter’s grin widened, “Oh yes. Even old as fucking bones your granddaddy was a filthy animal. Lucky you are the only other heir. And that bitch is the perfect sacrifice.”

Sharon had no idea what was going on, but she knew that this meant trouble. She saw Noah pale, then he fired another shot and shoved her towards the stairs, making her stumble, but then she stopped, as if gravity had no grip on her anymore. She wanted to scream in terror, but she could not move.

She heard Hunter step closer, heard him mumble a few utterly foreign words behind her and then Noah’s body crumpled, fell to the ground lifelessly. There was no way she could look at him and tears formed in her eyes again, but she was powerless to do anything. She could not even blink.

“And as for you…”, Hunter spoke softly behind her, pulling her hair sharply as he whispered in her ear, “You served your purpose. The only thing I need from you now is your blood.”

Sharon would have closed her eyes if she had been able to, but she was powerless to watch Hunter come into her field of view, a smile plastered on his face and cruelty in his eyes as he traced her lower lip with his thumb and spoke: “But I do so want your cunt first.”

Then he spoke those foreign words again and even though Sharon struggled, everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

An old Sumerian spell had been his downfall. Noah groaned quietly as the fuzz around his brain lifted far enough for him to at least attempt a coherent thought. But when he opened his eyes, fear drove all rational thought away.

Sharon was trapped… and so was he. They were both bound to the altar by magic so powerful he could taste it in the air, felt his hairs stand on end because of it. That magic fastened his chest to the altar, forcing him to bend over it from the side, his knees digging into the rough stone of the altar’s side. A glance down told him that his throat was directly above the basin, as was Sharon’s.

He hung his head, trying desperately to think. He did not want to accept what, deep inside, he already knew. They were both dead.

“Good morning, sunshine.”, Hunter – his goddamn uncle – said from near one of the bookshelves and Noah managed to turn his head just enough to look that bastard in the eye, “Thank you for joining is for this show. We’re still waiting on the other guest of honour, though.”

Saying that, he went over to Sharon, his hand roaming over her back in a twisted imitation of a caress until it reached the waistband of her skirt. Without missing a beat, Hunter brought his palm down on her backside, heard enough to create a resounding slap despite the cloth between his skin and hers.

Sharon woke with a yelp, her eyes frantically darting around, widening in fear that made itself heard as a horrified whimper.

“Good, we’re all present and accounted for. Let’s begin.”, Hunter grinned at them and twirled a kris in his left hand. Noah knew it was for show until he would actually slit their throats, but it had the desired effect on Sharon, she thrashed against her invisible bonds, her eyes wide and brimmed with tears of terror.

“Do you like my only heirloom?”, Hunter asked and brought the weapon to her face, slowly stroking over her cheek with the blunt side of the blade, not hurting her, but driving her mad with fear. Noah tried his best to just ignore him and instead find a way out of their predicament – although he knew they were as good as dead – but he could not simply watch. He too thrashed against the magic and growled in his rage, but Hunter merely laughed.

Then he grabbed the collar of Sharon’s blouse and sliced the back open, parting the ruined garment to put his hand on her skin. She whimpered and her tears fell, hitting the basin with barely a sound.

“This will be fun…”, Hunter murmured and stepped behind Sharon.

“No!”, Noah ground out and struggled against the binding spell with all his might, but to no avail.

“Shut up, nephew.”, Hunter chuckled, “She actually promised me this if I helped her.”

Noah refused to believe it, but the other man ignored him anyway.

“Didn’t you, you little slut?”, Hunter asked and leaned over Sharon’s back, relishing her terrified whimpers as he dragged his tongue over her skin, “My bed or this altar… I told you I wasn’t picky.”

Her sobs filled the air, only spurring him on and Hunter lifted her skirt. For just a second, genuine surprise was in his features and he took a step back, then he brought his right hand down in another hard slap, pushing Sharon forwards in her bonds before he said: “Did you come here like that or did my nephew here unwrap my present for me? I know he already used you, but again, I’m not picky.”

Noah could not see what his left hand did with the Kris turned downward as it vanished out of his sight behind Sharon, but her strangled scream gave him a pretty good, disgusting idea.

“Stop this!”, Noah yelled, even though he knew it would probably not help them in the slightest, “Stop!”

“What, are you that eager to die that you would deny us a bit of fun?”

Noah glared daggers at Hunter, trying to ignore Sharon’s tears as he replied: “Some things are worse than death. And you definitely are.”

He did not know what he had expected, but what happened was not it. Hunter hissed in anger, raised the Kris high and brought it swiftly down next to Noah’s upper arm, slicing his skin and leaving a deep, bleeding gash.

He could not help it, a roar of pain escaped his throat.

“That’ll teach you.”

And it did. For one moment before pain had thrown him off balance, Noah had felt the magical bonds loosen. He had to distract him. It was their only chance.

All his life he had tried to forget the spiteful comments his father had so often used to manipulate, but right now he needed exactly that. Noah felt words rise in him like bile, his stomach twisting uncomfortably, so he spat them at Hunter over Sharon’s back: “A slut that promised her body to you and you still have to wrestle it from her? I thought you were of better stock.”

The effect of his words was immense and immediate. Hunter was on him with two rapid steps and brought the pommel of the Kris down so swiftly and brutally on the back of Noah’s head that the force of it had his chin crash into the basin. He distinctly felt a crack and the taste blood. Noah coughed it up, pain racing through his skull and through the ringing in his ears he heard Sharon’s horrified gasp.

His blood dripped into the basin under his head and with a thrum of power, the runes around it started to glow. Sharon flinched, but Noah barely registered her fear, because the power he felt awaken was oppressive in its might. The veil between planes was torn.

“Motherfucker.”, Hunter hissed at him and forcefully grabbed Noah’s hair, yanking his head up, but he barely felt the pain as the hum of magic obliterated everything else in his mind.

“Now.”, an icy, distant voice demanded and Noah was chilled to the bone. He had only heard the voice twice before, but he knew it perfectly well. The demon bound to the Archer clan had a foothold in this world now.

“Yes, Master.”, Hunter said demurely, all but dropped Noah’s head and bowed before the altar. As he stood up again, he stroked Sharon’s cheek, making her jump in her bonds, before he smiled coldly: “You’re in luck. My master wants to come into this world now. So you get both of us.”

Sharon closed her eyes, the fight gone from her body, and Hunter merely laughed, then he turned to Noah: “And you. I’ll enjoy killing you, but the demon will even more. He’s probably a lot more creative than I could ever be.”

Without another word, Hunter brought the Kris to Sharon’s cheek and this time, he did graze her skin, making her scream as a small rivulet of blood ran down her jaw, to her chin and then a single drop fell into the basin, mixed with Noah’s blood. Their blood swirled ever faster, slowly changing colour as Hunter began chanting above them, then he cut his own palm and added his own blood to the mix, instantly changing the small maelstrom inside the basin to a blackish blue colour with the smell of burnt flesh.

“Sharon!”, Noah whispered, hoping not to be heard over Hunter’s chanting, “Sharon, be ready.”

She frowned and he moved his shoulder, showing her how Hunter’s diverted concentration had loosened their bonds. Her eyes widened, but then she nodded, steeling herself.

Waiting was agony, the stink of burnt flesh scorching their lungs and as their mixed blood evaporated into black smoke, Noah felt the scar on his chest pulse and it burned. Sharon’s pained whimpers told him she did not fare any better and the pain intensified as the smoke left the basin and reached its peak as Hunter bent over it to deeply inhale all of it.

There was no time to lose. Noah nodded at Sharon as he felt their bonds slip away and they both moved simultaneously. He grabbed Hunter’s neck and smashed his face against the altar, feeling the grinding of broken bones, but despite the pain, his uncle pushed him off and rounded on him. His lips were smeared with blood, his teeth broken and his eyes were completely black. He was possessed.

Noah gulped, but deflected his brutal blows as best he could, the Kris slashing through his shirt into his arm until… he staggered.

“Fuck you.”, Sharon muttered, her hand closed around Noah’s knife that he had uselessly thrown before, but now it was deeply embedded in Hunter’s neck. Blood sprayed as Sharon pulled the knife back and even though the possessed vessel turned to attack her, she sidestepped and brought the knife into his throat again, twisting it so that blood hit her slashed blouse and her skirt, ruining both.

Noah quickly disarmed the dying Hunter, throwing the Kris out of his reach, then he kicked him to the ground and readied his second gun, quickly emptying the clip into the back of his head. There was nothing left but a bloody, greyish pulp.

“I’m…”, Sharon whispered and breathed deeply, then she gulped with a shudder, but kept her lunch down.

“Is he…”, she asked and Noah nodded, “He’s definitely dead.”

“He is, but…the demon?”, she added fearfully and Noah had no answer.

He got it when the blood oozing from his uncle’s wounds turned black. There was only time to register what happened, but none to react. The black blood turned to smoke and the tendrils of it turned on Noah, shooting into him before he had a chance to attempt futile escape.

There was only blackness, pain and rage.

He distantly felt the floor he was thrashing on, felt numbness he belatedly realised as wounds on a body, maybe his own, but first of all, there was rage. Nothing but rage.

“Noah!”, he heard someone, wondered what that was supposed to mean.

“Noah!”, it came again through the burning anger in his mind and something comfortably cool, something… soothing was…somewhere. His face.

“Noah… damnit, Noah.”, he heard again, felt hands gently holding his bruised face.

“Sharon.”, he croaked as he finally understood and slowly opened his eyes to see her kneeling next to him, her face stained with blood and tears, but then his vision blurred again with tendrils of blackest smoke.

“Noah, please, what do I do?”, he heard the frantic yelling…Sharon.

“Holy water.”, he forced the words out, his whole body spasming in what he realised was the demon’s retaliation.

“Where?!”, Sharon asked and through the fog of rage and pain in his mind, he managed to hoarsely whisper, “Flask, back pocket.”

What little balance he had was thrown off as he was overturned and he numbly felt something, probably Sharon searching for his hip flask, and it cost all his strength to add: “Drink.”

Something liquid hit his mouth and all the pain from before was eclipsed by burning agony. His intestines spasmed painfully and he vaguely felt spitting something out.

When his vision suddenly cleared from the pain and black smoke, he saw the same smoke on the ground before him. The demon.

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis…”, he began reciting the old verse in Latin, the smoke shrinking away, but it was not enough. Noah grabbed Sharon’s hand blindly and as if that had told her what to do, she chimed in: “Our father, who art in Heaven…”

Together they prayed, even though neither was religious, and the smoke vanished.

As it did, Noah took a deep breath in relief. The air still stank of blood and gore, but the smell of burnt flesh was gone.

“D-did it work?”, Sharon stuttered, then looked at him, “Do prayers really work?”

“Yes.”, Noah nodded, “I didn’t believe it myself, but they work.”

“So…”, she mumbled, squeezing his hand, glancing from him to where the smoke had been, “The demon is dead?”

“Yes.”, Noah nodded, unconsciously rubbing his scar, and gave her a painful smile, “You are free.”

She sighed deeply and Noah looked to the side, realisation hitting him with a crushing weight and he whispered: “I am free.”

Then he looked at Sharon again, a smile on his face despite the pain he was in: “I am free. That was the demon my family has been bound to for generations. I am free!”

He believed to see hope in Sharon’s eyes, mixed with doubt, so he assured her: “He is dead. Don’t you feel the change in your scar?”

She frowned, rubbed her scarred wrist, just like he touched the scar tissue on his chest and he saw her blink in astonishment. Her scar had faded, was nothing more than a thin, silvery line where before it had been a bulging, knotty scarlet mass. A quick glance under his shirt told him that his scar had paled too.

“We’re free.”, Noah whispered, tears in his eyes he did not even try to fight. With a sigh that might also have been a sob, he limply fell to the ground, merely breathing, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his soul was free. His fate was in his own hands for the first time in all his life. He was in pain, he had almost died… but he was grinning like a child.

Until one word wiped that grin off his face: “Goodbye.”

“What?”, he asked and scrambled to his feet, followed Sharon who was already at the foot of the steps, holding the remnants of her ruined clothing to her body like armour as she repeated, “Goodbye, Noah.”

“No!”, he shook he head, tried to take her hands but she refused and he found himself pleading, “Sharon, please, we…”

“No.”, she merely said and there were tears in her eyes, but her voice was firm, “No. You told me I was dead to you. It’s for the best.”

“No, it’s not!”, Noah argued, again trying to take her hands in his but as she drew them away from him, he grabbed her neck as gently as he managed in his agitation, “I said that to protect you! I hoped it would keep you from summoning the demon!”

“It did not.”, Sharon stated the obvious, pushing his hand away without force, but with determination that all but stopped Noah’s heart. His arm limply fell to his side as he pleaded: “Sharon…”

“Goodbye.”, she spoke again, then turned around, away from him, and left. Noah blinked away the tears in his eyes, tears of frustration and helplessness. He had risked everything for her… and lost.

He had barely escaped with his life. But he had won his soul.

Despite it all, he smiled. But that hurt like hell, so he quietly took inventory of his injuries and realised that he needed an ambulance. However, there were other things that needed doing before that, so he set to work. It took a bit of effort, but he found some petrol in the disused garage and splashed it in the shrine and the library. Hunter had provided him with matches and a candle and after all, the mansion was an old house, old and made of wood, mostly. It was only a matter of time.

When he heard the fire crackling in the hardwood floor of the shrine, he leisurely climbed the steps, left a few more matches in the doused library, purposefully leaving the window open through with Sharon had entered, then he closed the door behind him and locked it.

For the next few minutes, he sat on the hood of his car, his hands in his pockets as he watched the fire slowly lick first at the library, then the parlour, the second floor.

When he heard the first wall or ceiling inside collapse, he unlocked his car and drove himself to the ER.

Noah calmly parked and walked in, greeting the nurse at the desk: “Good afternoon, I think my arm needs stitches.”

“Uh-huh.”, she muttered before looking up and when she did, her eyes widened and she stuttered, “Mr. Archer, what the heck happened to you?!”

“I was attacked, but I fought him off. I do need stitches, though.”

“I’d say.”, the nurse muttered, making him grin despite his swollen and painfully throbbing jaw, then she ushered him into a treatment room, a doctor following close behind.

“You’ve looked better.”, the older man stated and Noah shot back, “You should see the other guy.”

Probably burnt to a crisp by now.

“Alright.”, the physician muttered and got to work, eventually handed Noah a prescription and asked, “Will you be alright from here on out?”

“I’ll be fine, Sir, thank you.”, Noah took his leave and silently added: “Someday.”


End file.
